Beyond the Tangible

Posted by Erik Moshe on Friday, April 13, 2012 Under: Rhymed Verses



From 2009,

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There's no room in the darkness for saints
When the revolution starts to constrain
Beyond the luminous harbors the strange

Gaze closer, you'll find vixens at eye's breadth filtering mind sex
People distinguished by crime debt huddled beneath the withering pinecrest
Engineered us to stand on our own two feet with stilts on our hind legs
Take a good look at the air above the Coliseum's dome
Radiation always loved to watch bodies decompose
Preying on carcasses of polytheist clones caught in galvanist webs
Couldn't salvage what's left. Now America's grabbing its chest
Applying pressure to the pillow, America's gasping for breath -
On the back of the bill, the pyramidal iris toppled
When David slung the crack rock right up Goliath's nostril
You can call it time's debacle, seven deadly sins for nine apostles
Try a bottle of this ignorance, you might enjoy one from fermented groves
If only the freeloaders offered to load your cargo ships on the voyage home
I can imagine how much you must sweat shopping in a sweat shop
So much for the children laboring for that same sweatshop
Their well being depends on the arrival of a welfare check
Young hands knitting little pineapple patterns on every threadbare spec
Ask yourself: Did your passions matter when the entire city was in waste?
While operating Deux ex Machina, inspiration tried to hit me in the face
It was too late to safe lock the fifth gauge - then arrays rocked my ribcage
Another casualty of brainwashing's intake -
I hope someone out there can hear the faint sounds my lips make:
There's no room in the darkness for saints.

In : Rhymed Verses 



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